


Dangerous Fantasies

by Ealasaid



Category: Homestuck, Problem Sleuth (Webcomic)
Genre: Cats, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-09
Updated: 2012-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-29 05:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ealasaid/pseuds/Ealasaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspector returns from his latest travels a little the worse for wear, and also late to a tea appointment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dangerous Fantasies

  
The first thing Inspector noticed upon his return from the realm of imagination, besides the warning throb of a bad hangover headache, was that his fort was... unusually tall.   


This was rather strange, because his fort was perfectly constructed to match his tall frame perfectly, not an inch too high nor too low. Moreover, it was a fort one had to stand in; you weren’t sure why you wanted it to be standing room only, but it was. And now the roof of it was several feet taller than you remembered, and there was positively no way you could be sitting on the floor.

It was just as you came to the conclusion that something was terribly, terribly wrong, when someone knocked precisely on your office door and, after waiting the requisite two seconds decorum dictated, entered. Entered, and stopped, because you were sure you weren’t in sight.

“One moment,” you tried to say, only it came out rather strangely and there wasn’t an answering response. You pushed a little at the walls of your fort but your vim gauge had apparently dropped from the hangover and you couldn’t shove aside the walls of your fort. Actually, you couldn’t shove the fort at all, because suddenly there was a lot less of you. 

Wait, what?

You could see perfectly well from the light in the window at the top of the fort and you finally looked at yourself and realized that wow, you must have really been packing it in the imagination world today, because you came back as a cat. Being Pickle Inspector, literal creator and caretaker of the world, this comes as almost no shock at all to you. Your immediate concern is about how high and far you can jump relative to your body height now that you have musculature wired to four legs rather than two.

“Inspector?” someone says from way high up. Oh dear, you forgot about your tea appointment again. This is terrible, you _really_ need to stop doing that. You do hope Droog will forgive you for your negligence-- it’s so strange, lately your relations have reached the level of intimacy where his almost-daily visits are, though no less special, less a novelty. You have started to become more forgetful about your time together as a result, unfortunately.

“Here,” you say, only it comes out as a tuneless cat wail. Oh my.

The footsteps come nearer stop, and you look up to see Droog as he attempts to look into the fort via the window at the top. You make another cat noise to get his attention-- a piteous meow, enough to wring the heart of any kind person. It was entirely unintended. It certainly does not sway Droog, whose expression wrinkles with distaste. You do not remember him professing any hatred of cats in particular, but you do not doubt that a man so attentive to his clothing could ever welcome an animal known for shedding.

“Inspector?” he repeats, a faint note of incredulity coloring his tone. It is astounding; you’ve never heard him express genuine surprise before. You mew in response, hoping he’ll let you out of your fort.

It’s not a moment later that he’s carefully removing the front panel so that the whole thing does not collapse, and you tentatively sort of... scootch into the open.

Droog looks down at you, bemused, with that faint wrinkle on his forehead that indicates a time he cannot decide whether he should be amused or irritated. You practically wilt. You’re such a terrible host.

“GPI,” he says, “you are the scrawniest cat I have ever seen” and then you feel even worse because you are a cat and Droog does not like cats, much less scrawny ones.

But he crouches down next to you with the grace you admire, and holds out a hand. You sniff it politely, and he waits until you are finished before gently rubbing behind your ears. It feels divine.

“I assume something strange happened?” he says, still caressing the short fur behind your ears. You’re surprised to find you can manage a gentle purr, and you lick the heel of his hand. You half wonder how he knows it’s you before he starts to scratch beneath your chin. “Only one person could stare so, even as a cat,” Droog remarks as you lean into his hand.

He stops petting you for a second and you come back to your senses, bewildered. Then hands are wrapped around your middle and you’re being lifted way far up high until Droog has you cradled against his chest with one arm and he tickles the underside of your chin again with the other.

“I’d rather you didn’t get into trouble this way,” he says. “I’d better take care of you until you figure out how to change back.”

You manage to lay a paw on the hand holding you up to show your gratitude. It’s really the best you can do under the circumstances, but he understands anyway because he’s Droog. 

“If I may make a request, though,” he continues as he begins to walk out of your office, “please, do not enter my closet.”


End file.
